


good times never seemed so good

by irlkaijugroupie



Series: the stuff that dreams are made of [4]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Fluff and some plot, Found Family, Gen, all stuff that happens here is platonic weird people dont fucking interact, as usual!, mild body horror, no chat fic this time around, noir-centric, not as dark as the summary implies, small bits that connect into one common theme basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlkaijugroupie/pseuds/irlkaijugroupie
Summary: Looking across the abandoned room in a world that he didn’t belong in, he saw how he straddled the line of dark and light, reflected both in his actions and in his face.And all he could do was laugh.





	good times never seemed so good

**Author's Note:**

> im back at it again lads (fortnite dances)
> 
> ive been sitting on this for like a month and i just finished this in a frenzy and i have a concert tomorrow so i should definitely not be up this late but whatever
> 
> be warned of varying quality. its 1 am. lmk if theres any typoes or whatever
> 
> (ok if theres any sign of how tired i am i read 12:57 on the clock earlier and put "its 2 am" and i saw the clock now says 1:02 so i corrected it djbfhbdfsf)

“Do it again! Do it again!” The spiders cheered. It was a cool winter's evening, and they were all relaxing at Noir's apartment. He had, at first, voiced his objections - the winters were cold and bitter there - but the spiders had responded by bringing in an almost absurd amount of blankets and pillows. They were all piled in Noir's cramped living room, tangled in each other, and it almost stopped the winter chill from reaching his bones.

 

Noir chuckled, a wide, gnarly grin on his face, his teeth poking out and slightly rubbing against his bottom lip. He reached out his left arm and turned his forearm back, twisting it way past what should be possible for a person. There was a very quiet popping sound, but it was drowned out by the spiders laughing raucously.

 

Gwen grinned, reaching up her own hands. “I can do the thing with my fingers, kinda.”

 

Noir raised an eyebrow in questioning, and Gwen pushed the middle knuckle of her fingers forward, making her fingers into a slight Z shape. The other spiders immediately began trying to push their own knuckles out, with varying rates of success.

 

The grin on Noir's face grew wider. “Watch this, kid,” he said, and then reached his fingers back until they were almost pressed against the top of his palm - and he hadn't even used his other hand to push them. Everyone burst into shocked laughter, and Ham popped up next to Noir.

 

“Oh  _ yeah _ ? Get this!” Ham reached his own arm up, beginning to stretch like an overshoot in animation. Laughter wracked the friends, and Noir poked Ham in between fits of chuckling.

 

“You're a toon, Porker, it doesn't count for you!” Noir said, and Ham huffed indignantly.

 

“Wow  _ okay _ I see how it is, Petey,” Ham said in a mock offended tone, putting his own hand on his chest. Everyone erupted into joy once again, breathless, and the winter didn't seem so bitter.

 

* * *

 

The spider-man had, first, dropped on one of them like a cat. He had been on the ceiling, apparently, his black figure unseen right up until they had walked up under him - and that's when he pounced. The man he'd dropped on was knocked out the instant his head hit the floor, and the spider-man had reached around - almost behind him, his arm impossibly contorting - and slammed another into the wall.

 

They had cried out, run at him with their weapons in hand, but the spider-man wasn't even fazed. He ripped the weapons from their hands, hit them with powerful hits of his own, and had even crawled along the wall, his joints curling strangely, to avoid them.

 

Every story that had been spread about the spider-man and his monstrousness really was true.

 

He stood over one of them, when it was all said and done much too fast. “It's what you get,” he said, his voice a low and hoarse grind, almost as if the way he slinked along the walls and ceilings had been condensed into a voice.

 

One of them coughed, staring up at the spider-man's looming figure. “You… you monsters think you can run around? You don't protect the city. We do-”

 

The spider-man stomped, hard, on the hand of the Nazi, who let out a slight shriek.

 

“You're the ones poisoning this damn place,” the spider-man ground out. “And you're getting what's coming to ya.”

 

* * *

 

“Wow,” Noir said, looking over at Miles’ sketchbook. His voice was calm and amicable. “Those look quite dandy.”

 

Miles smiled, a little bit embarrassed, and tugged his sketchbook back over to himself. “Thanks,” he said.

 

Noir smiled a little bit and patted Miles’ shoulder, before walking over to Aunt May's plush, floral patterned couch. He slumped over and lay across it, his right arm twisting back and off the couch strangely, and his legs stretched up on the back and armrest. Languidly, he stretched, and Miles winced slightly when he saw the angles at which Noir moved, though he didn't say anything. It was just what came with Noir's quirks, after all.

 

Miles’ music continued to play, and he continued to draw. When Peter B came inside to show Miles something outside, he noted that Noir was fast asleep, as awkwardly as he was positioned.

 

* * *

 

The detective didn’t know what to think of the Spider-man, now that they were face to face.

 

Even among the shadows that he knew intimately, even more so than the average New Yorker, the Spider-man was dark. He was tall and everything he wore, his mask, his coat, his vest and sweater, even his hat, was like he’d been dunked in those hypothetical ‘pure black’ paints that kids liked to joke about. When the detective had went to talk to him, he had simply been standing on the edge of the roof of the building, and, due to some miracle, hadn’t jumped off. Up close, on that rooftop, even with the sheer darkness that covered him, the Spider-man seemed oddly… human.

 

Hoarse was the voice of the Spider-man, and his sentences were clipped and quick, no matter how much the detective tried to press him. His voice was awfully monotone as well, only showing a little bit of annoyance when the detective pressed just a bit too much.

 

Everyone in this damn city knew how fickle the Spider-man could be, and especially the detective wanted to be on his good side. So he apologized, spouted out some more words of peace and shaky alliance, and offered to shake hands. An offer the Spider-man accepted.

 

And it was in that moment, when their outstretched hands met, and the detective felt the fingers curl strangely around his own, like the long, plucking legs of a large spider, and the detective saw the Spider-man’s coat sleeve pull back ever so slightly to reveal shiny, sandpaper-like skin and two fleshy flaps in the wrist, when the detective fully understood, with the loud drums of fear beating increasingly loudly in the nape of his neck, the true inhumanity of the Spider-man.

 

* * *

 

Noir and Peter B looked at each other, the colourful one of the two brightly popping against the black and white of (most of) Noir’s apartment.

 

“You mind if I hang here for a bit?” Peter B said, his voice weary, his eyebrows pinched. Noir nodded.

 

Noir watched with a cool face as Peter B slumped on the ratty couch. He sighed, then got up, lightly tugging the one thin blanket he had and draping it on the other man. He looked down, face furrowed slightly in concern. “Bad day?” A nod. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Peter B shook his head, and Noir nodded in acknowledgement.

 

At first he was going to go back to his work, and turned around to do so, but then he paused and looked back at Peter B, who looked at him with a heavy tiredness and a slight worry. Noir offhandedly cracked his knuckles as he thought, contorting the thumbs of those same hands to do so.

 

“How…” Noir said, “about this.” He grabbed his notes, a small board, and a pencil from his desk. With easy dexterity, he hopped up over the couch and onto the wall, where then he crawled around and laid himself down on the back of the couch, his body then curling around next to Peter B, where his head sat right next to the other man’s. He then propped his papers up on his lap.

 

Peter B looked bemusedly over at where Noir’s body curved right around Peter B. With how cramped the couch was, Noir had to lay half on the back cushions in order to be next to him. 

 

“Is that comfortable for you?” Peter B asked, looking over at where Noir scribbled some stuff down with oddly bent fingers and messy handwriting.

 

“Mhm,” Noir simply hummed. “Do ya want me to be closer or farther?”

 

Peter B thought about their proximity as they were, and how he felt. “...No.”

 

“Alrighty.”

 

Peter B looked at Noir for a little bit longer, and watched as he worked quietly. It confused him to see Noir comfortable, legs all awkward like that, even with how long he’d known the other man. It was nice though, to have him next to him like that, saying nothing, and so Peter B also said nothing until he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“HEY!” Peni hollered, and Noir jumped up from his spot on his couch. There was a messy and swirling portal, and Peni had popped her head through. “There's a big problem and we need your help!” She held out her hand. “Come on!”

 

Noir pulled on his mask and had his coat on one arm when she pulled him through. It was Miles’ New York, and Peni and Noir swung through the city, weaving around the buildings together. Noir looked over at Peni.

 

“What's the issue, doll?!” Noir shouted as they sped through the neon metropolis.

 

They rounded the corner and saw rubble, sirens, and of course: some faint familiar figures fighting against some abomination.

 

“NEVER MIND!” Noir rushed out, and Peni let out some breathless laughter, though it was cut short when the creature - he couldn't really see what it was, and it didn't look like anything familiar - was slammed into the building right next to where SP//DR was swinging. They were flung out to the side, and Noir shrieked, shooting out webs and just barely catching the mech.

 

He swung around with one hand, aiming out again and pulling forward to land on the side of some tall glass spire. Peni and SP//DR crawled up next to where he had stuck on to the side in a panic, his four limbs contorted and stretched in his messy landing.

 

“Well I'll be damned,” Noir wheezed out. “Be careful, kid.”

 

Peni didn't respond verbally, but the mech gave a thumbs up (that Noir returned) before swinging into the action.

 

Noir, however, stood back for a second. How would he do this?

 

He was a black blur as he slammed into the creature, flinging both of them into an abandoned warehouse. Glass flung out, the colours of the sky around them reflecting into their little, diamond-like shards. Noir hit the ground harshly, rolling over the cold and stained floor.

 

He reached out and pressed his hands to the wall, using his hands to haul his body up onto the wall, body twisting roughly. Glaring, he watched as the creature recovered from being winded. With keen eyes, he saw the creature glitch, writhing on the ground and getting up on shaky legs. He shouted a quick “HEY!” and it turned up and looked at him.

 

A deep rumbling noise came from the back of its throat, the flaps of skin at its lips pulling back to reveal long and twisted fangs. The growl turned to a loud and lung-vibrating snarl, and in response, Noir simply reached up, gloved fingers picking at the hem of his mask.

 

“Nice to see someone like me,” he said, his voice light in tone but rough in the throat. It was almost ironic. He thought about the monsters - of the biologically warped sort - that he and his family fought on a nearly constant basis. He thought about his rough voice, his sandy skin, and all those warped parts of him, pushed and pulled like clay by the curse laid on him. Looking across the abandoned room in a world that he didn’t belong in, he saw how he straddled the line of dark and light, reflected both in his actions and in his face.

 

And all he could do was laugh.

 

* * *

 

Gwen poked Noir on the shoulder one day while he was sitting on Aunt May’s roof reading. Noir looked back and saw Gwen and Miles, giggling and glancing at each other.

 

Noir smiled, just a little bit, and turned around awkwardly to look at them. “Now what’s got you two breakin’ up?”

 

Miles pointed at Gwen. “We were out in Gwen’s dimension and we found something at the mall that we thought you’d like.”

 

One of Noir’s eyebrows quirked up and he smiled wider as he watched the two start giggling harder. With hands shaking from laughter, Gwen held something out to Noir. Something rather small, something that could fit in his hand.

 

He grabbed it lightly and looked down at it.

 

It was a small rectangular piece of flat plastic, with a small metal loop and clip around the end. As he tilted it in his hand, he watched, mesmerized, as the colours seemed to change from several soft and bright colours as he moved it around. He pointed at it. “What are these colours doing?”

 

“We call those holographic colours,” Gwen said. “When they do that shiny effect.” Noir gasped and was about to thank them, when-

 

Miles snickered loudly. “Turn - turn it around.”

 

Noir did as he was told, and noticed that the other side had text. The text read “#1 Grandpa!”

 

“Hey now!” Noir burst out, and all three of them roared with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> not shown: noir clipping the gift onto a little loop he has on his scarf because he totally keeps little pins and stuff on his scarf im totally not projecting
> 
> also ive noticed that the past, what, two or so fics in this series have been mostly pretty similar so maybe ill spice it up sometime gimme suggestions (or not, ur decision)
> 
> remember kids dont do drugs and dont be like me
> 
> edit: I HAVE DECIDED.... the next fic is gonna be fucking trans rights time


End file.
